Epilogue
CAMI
Six Months Later
Somewhere Over the Caribbean
Golden ribbons shimmer across the ocean as sunlight slips behind a distant horizon, turning the ship’s deck into something that looks stolen from a dream.
Lanterns sway on their hooks. Waiters pass by with trays of champagne flutes.
And somewhere in the distance, the Trouble Triplets are probably already strategizing about which one of them will catch my bouquet later.
Knox’s fingers are laced with mine as we step off the aisle runner and into the reception, people we love filling the deck like a living constellation.
His wedding band gleams every time the light hits it, and my dress is hitched in one hand, my heels long abandoned, and I swear, my cheeks may never recover from all the smiling.
Paxton, my Man of Honor, is the first to reach us, practically vibrating. “If I cry again, someone better fetch emergency hydration.”
I laugh, leaning into Knox’s shoulder. “We’re less than two hours in, and you’re already dramatic.”
Paxton presses a hand to his chest. “Dramatic? I performed a controlled emotional descent. Speaking of dramatic…”
Dex and Dr. Ochoa, who apparently got married on Valentine’s Day and have been obnoxiously cute about it ever since, approach us with matching smiles that could power the ship.
“See?” Dex beams. “Told ya you two would end up a couple. It’s what Crystal Cove does best.” He nudges Dr. Ochoa with an affectionate wink.
Knox squeezes my hand, offering Dr. Ochoa a grateful nod. “Thanks again for letting your staff watch Stripe and Shadow so we could be here.”
“Please,” Dr. Ochoa says, smoothing his tie. “Those kittens are adored by the entire staff. They’re just their human servants.”
Dex snorts. “Adorable tyrants. Plus, they get to catch up with Wanda.”
A few steps away, Pamela waves her cocktail at us. “Documenting this beautiful wedding for the Luxe Properties newsletter. Also, Knox, your vows? Shockingly heartfelt. I’m proud of you.”
Knox groans playfully. “Please don’t put anything that could cause a scandal in that newsletter.”
Next to her, Claire beams at us with crinkling eyes, her hand over her heart. “Sweet girl, I have never seen a more beautiful bride. The moment you walked out, Hazel cried so hard, Sy thought he was going to have to step away from his Best Manpa role and give her CPR.”
“Exaggeration,” Sy murmurs though his eyes are glassy, and Hazel is still fanning herself with a folded napkin.
“You two,” Hazel sniffles, “were breathtaking. Like a movie.” She reaches for Knox’s face, squishing it between her hands. “You married up, sweetheart.”
Knox laughs, bending to kiss her cheek. “I know, Grandma.”
I spot my dad, standing near one of the banquet tables, drink in hand, pretending he’s fine. He’s not. His jaw keeps flexing the same way it did when he took me to the airport before I flew to England.
He walks over to us and pulls me into a hug that reminds me I’ll always be his little girl. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”
“You cried,” I whisper back.
“Impossible. Sea spray.”
“Sure, Dad.”
Knox doesn’t leave my side when he reaches out to shake his hand. “Thank you.”
Dad squeezes his shoulder. “Welcome to the family, son. And by the way…” He lowers his voice. “Your mother’s still as beautiful as she was when I met her last Christmas, right after the Everett Hill deal closed. Guess I can see where you get your looks.”
I choke on a laugh as Knox pinches the bridge of his nose.
Mercifully, before Knox or my dad can say something equally horrifying, a familiar trio descends.
Millie, Margo, and Elena appear in a cloud of perfume and high-volume commentary, in their matching bridesmaid dresses.
“Best wedding ever!”
“Cami, sweetheart, your dress is a public service announcement!”
“Knox, you handsome devil, you made half the ship thirsty!”
“Enough chit-chat,” Millie declares, clapping twice like she owns the cruise line. Maybe she does. “It’s time.”
“For what?” I ask even though I know.
“Your first dance, of course,” Millie crows.
The band sees her signal and shifts effortlessly into an upbeat, modern, jazzy melody called Lover Girl, a song Knox and I picked months ago, back when “husband” was still a future-tense word lodged somewhere between hope and disbelief.
Knox laces our fingers again, his thumb brushing my new ring. “Ready?”
My heart squeezes. “More than ready.”
Knox spins me under the string lights, his hand steady on mine, the sea humming quietly beneath us like it knows how this ends. He pulls me close again, palm warm against the small of my back, and I melt into the rhythm.
I glance over his shoulder, and a giggle bubbles free. “Did you see the way my dad looked at your mom?”
Knox groans under his breath. “Jesus. They cannot get together. Can you imagine?”
“Oh, I’ve imagined,” I say, smirking as he guides me into another turn. “And if they do, our love story will have survived enough romance tropes to fill a bookshelf.”
He raises a brow. “Grumpy/sunshine-ish.”
“Next-door neighbors,” I add.
“Summer fling.” He dips me, the cocky bastard, and I squeal just a little before laughing into his chest.
“Age gap,” I mutter, breathless as he brings me back against him.
Knox grins, wicked and sexy all at once. “He falls first.”
“Forced proximity,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Off-limits,” he adds, his thumb brushing the base of my spine in a way that still makes my pulse stutter.
“Divorced hero,” I whisper, watching his eyes soften just a little more.
“Surprise third-act villain.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “Defeated.”
He nudges his nose against mine. “And if your dad marries my mom—”
“Older stepbrother,” I groan.
Knox smirks like it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever said, and to be fair, it might be.
We keep swaying, the moment stretched wide between us, full of years we haven’t lived yet and a hundred what-ifs I’m no longer afraid of.
I look up at him, lights catching in his eyes.
“Whatever happens,” I whisper, “I’m still forever yours.”
My new husband brushes his lips against my temple and says the words like a vow…
“Forever yours.”